Sweet Revenge
by mcnemeli
Summary: GS The past collides with the present.


Title: Sweet Revenge

Author: Melissa

Spoilers: I'm claiming the right to use anything up to Bloodlines

Pairings: G/S of course

Summary: This is my version of "Sara's past comes back to haunt her"

Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did I wouldn't have to put this disclaimer in here, and I wouldn't have to worry about how to pay my bills this month!

Sweet Revenge

The calm blue colors of CSI did nothing to quell her frustration today. Normally she trusted the aquatic feel of the building to ease her in to relaxation, but things were different tonight, tonight they would wait for another call. Wait for another woman to be found dead and another word painted in blood on the wall. She hated these cases. They all hated these cases and she knew she was not the only one obsessed with finding the mad man who had killed six women in less than a month. Catherine Willows held her head high as she passed occupied labs. Her appearance betrayed her feelings of dread, but her appearance was important she had to show confidence that she knew the killer would be caught. Appearance went hand in hand with politics. 'Don't show fear.' Catherine thought as she walked past the layout room not surprised to see one of her coworkers hunched over the table. Photographs covering every available inch of space the table provided. Catherine sighed at the other woman's torment over cases such as this. A deep breath and she was ready to face the exhausted workaholic.

"Sara." Catherine called quietly not wanting to startle the brunette. "Did you go home this morning?" Her question was answered with a set of pain-filled brown eyes staring into her blue ones and a quick shrug. "Morning shift kicked me out around noon. I came back a couple of hours ago." Sara responded with another shrug. Catherine gave the younger woman a forced smile and Sara's eyes dropped back down to the note pad that she had been furiously scribbling on when Catherine had walked in.

Inside of an hour four members of the Las Vegas criminalistics graveyard shift had found their way to the break room. Nick Stokes sat with his fingers wrapped carefully around his coffee cup staring at the dark liquid. The usually upbeat Texan was quietly waiting through the calm before the storm. Warrick Brown sat opposite

his best friend in much the same position, long fingers around his coffee cup, dark eyes staring at nothingness. Catherine watched the only person making noise in the room. Sara Sidle paced back and forth her note pad from earlier clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes darting to and from the blackboard set up with information about each victim and her notes scribbled on the yellow pad in her hand.

Catherine turned her attention from Sara to the blackboard. It was a simple list. Each woman's name, picture, occupation, race, age, social activities listed and the blood written words that had been painted on the wall at each crime scene scrawled down the board. Nothing new jumped out at her. She continued to stare at the information eager to see a connection that could indicate the next victim.

Elise Neven, Imera Montena, Sadie Ellis, Lana Deveaux, Iris Stevens, and Ariana Romwell would never get to enjoy the sunshine, hear children laugh, or eat ice cream again and tonight, they all feared, a seventh name would be added to that list.

Gil Grissom sat quietly in his office staring at the phone waiting for the call that would tell him that another woman had been tortured, raped, and murdered. He sighed and let his head fall into his hands, rubbing his eyes wearily. He knew his whole crew of CSI's were sitting in the break room waiting, just like him, for the call that would take them to a new crime scene with no evidence to lead them to the maniac who was putting fear into every female resident of Las Vegas. He jumped, startled when the phone he had been waiting to hear ring, did. "Grissom" he snapped into the receiver knowing that the homicide detective on the other end would forgive his curtness.

"Ashlee Simpson, age 24, collage student at UNLV and it looks like our guy." Brass reported, no pleasantries were exchanged between the two colleagues, both understanding the severity of the situation. "We're on our way." Grissom said setting the receiver down and taking a deep breath before standing to inform his crew of the latest murder to hit Sin City.

Nick Stokes quietly watched Sara Sidle pace back and fourth across the break room, her action almost making him dizzy. Everyone knew how abuse and rape cases completely controlled the youngest CSI and this case was no different, probably worse for her. His heart ached for the woman he had adopted as a sister, wishing that whatever pain she was feeling he could make disappear. Nick glanced at the other two occupants of the room. Both Warrick and Catherine seemed content to watch Sara's frantic pacing. He closed his eyes and listened to her steps. Four steps then a pause as she turned for another four steps across the room. He mentally counted her steps... one, two, three, four, pause. One, two, three, four, pause. One, two, three... he cracked open his eyes when he realized that the pacing had stopped. "Sara?" he whispered when he heard her gasp and her breath become shallow. Nick had never believed the cliché of watching someone's face drain of color, until now. He watched Sara's normally pale complexion turn to a ghastly white, her hands held the yellow notepad so tightly Nick was afraid her fingernails would snap off, and her wide eyes put fear into his heart, they were full of absolute terror.

"Sara?" he said again, louder this time, as he jumped up from his chair and approached her. Her eyes darted frantically from him to the board and then to the paper in her hands. "Oh God." She whispered her grip on the notepad slacking. She looked at him with desperate eyes before placing a hand over her mouth and pushing past him and out the break room door almost knocking Grissom off his feet on her way.

"What the hell happened?" Grissom barked, entering the room. "We have a crime scene to get to." Nick looked at him confused, Catherine answered by following Sara out the door, and Warrick stood up from his kneeling position, Sara's yellow notepad and pencil that she had dropped in her rush to leave the room, in hand.

"Griss," Warrick looked at him fearfully, "do we have a name of the latest victim?"

Grissom looked at the younger man with questioning eyes. "Ashlee Simpson, why?" He asked, afraid of the answer.

Warrick looked at him, then at Nick, and back to him. "I think you should look at this." Warrick responded his voice shaking. Grissom followed Nick to the notebook that Warrick had set down on the table. Grissom immediately recognized Sara's sloppy scrawl and he glanced at Warrick confused. The page that Warrick had turned to was one of the last in the notebook that Sara had started at the beginning of the case. Grissom let his eyes slowly scan the page. The top listed the names of the victims, their initials bolded where she had gone over the letters multiple times, like she had needed to keep her hands as busy as her mind. His eyes scanned further down the page. Sara had listed the victims initials in order her untidy penmanship disrupted by Warrick's neat print where he had added the initials of Ashlee Simpson.

ENIMSELDISARAS

Grissom felt his heart stop with fear when he looked at the last line, the initials of the women written backwards read:

SARASIDLESMINE.


End file.
